


Slice of Life

by Pseudothyrum



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Crack, Eddie Izzard stand-up jokes, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-13
Updated: 2014-06-13
Packaged: 2018-02-04 11:46:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1777867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pseudothyrum/pseuds/Pseudothyrum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frederick Chilton receives a phone call in the middle of the night. The voice on the other end of the line has a very serious question.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Slice of Life

**Author's Note:**

> For you, darling.

Frederick awakes in the middle of the night in a cold sweat. For a long, tense moment he wonders what woke him, and his mind runs through every little thing that could go bump in the night (a perhaps unsurprising number of them are “serial killers seeking revenge”). Then his phone buzzes again on his nightstand, vibrating itself nearly off the edge. He catches it and reads the screen, which tells him only that the number is blocked. Feeling what he thinks is an appropriate amount of apprehension given how his life has gone thus far, he answers. 

“Hello?” he asks cautiously. 

“Hello, Frederick,” the voice on the other end says, calm and cool and utterly terrifying. Frederick’s hand goes immediately to the long scar on his abdomen, which has developed a sudden, phantom pain. He makes an undignified squeaking sound, then coughs as he struggles to school his vocal cords back into submission. 

“Wh--what do you want, Abel?” he asks, hoping Gideon doesn’t notice how weak and frightened his voice sounds

“I have a question for you Frederick,” Gideon says, laughing tone making it absolutely clear that he has noticed exactly how frightened Frederick is, “I want you to answer it as best you can. Can you do that for me, Frederick?” Frederick makes a sort of strangled noise deep in his throat that he hopes sounds vaguely confirmatory. Gideon, at least, seems to take it as such. 

“Good Frederick, good. I just want to know,” he pauses for a tense moment, letting the suspense build, the dramatic bastard, “Cake or death?” Frederick lets out a short laughing noise that is more an expression of shock and fear than anything resembling amusement.

“I don’t... what?” 

“You heard me Frederick. Cake or death?” 

“Uhh... cake, please?” There is silence for a long time on the other end of the line, and the only reason Frederick knows Gideon is still there is the slightest sound of breathing. 

“Very well,” there is a click, and the call ends. Frederick stares at his phone as though it might provide some clue as to what is happening. It offers nothing but the time. He wants to be mad at it, but he doesn’t know what he expected. He pulls himself out of bed and pushes the dresser in front of the door, then lies back down and falls, eventually, into a fitful sleep. 

***

The next morning he wakes up and checks his phone immediately, half hoping the previous night had all been a dream. Seeing that it was all too real, he cautiously pushes the dresser away from the door and hobbles slowly and carefully downstairs. He isn’t sure what he expects to see, but it certainly isn’t what he finds.

Sitting on the island in his kitchen is a large and delicious-looking cake in a glass cake dome that he is completely certain he didn’t own previously. Under the base of the dome is a note written in a scrawl that he knows to be Gideon’s. He approaches the cake gingerly, as though afraid it will explode, and slides the note out from under it.

“You’re lucky I wasn’t out of cake”


End file.
